The dentist should be her perfect tech break. Then came the smart watch

When one goes to a follow-up dental appointment for not having cavities, one will jump through flaming hoops to alert others her boomerang visit has nothing to do with tooth decay.

I don’t consider myself a prideful person. I wear skorts a bit too much. Sometimes I watch old Lawrence Welk episodes with my mother and announce the fact, like right now. Also, I can body slam trip before a crowd on the top of Montmartre and limp away with a mere shrug.

But with the rigor I floss and brush daily, I’m not going to let the world assume I slipped up with dental hygiene. This is the hill I will die on.

It was apparently that exact rigor, with the aid of Colgate and medium bristles, that caused some enamel loss near the gum line of a few front lower teeth. This is why I had to bounce back to the dentist post check-up. I must repeat, the visit was not for cavities, but erosion.

A stealthy early morning appointment would have kept the whole deal under wrap. It was a busy and stressful week, so I was almost happy to hang my purse on a wall hook and recline in the chair with great lumbar support.

This is a pathetic admission. My chance to chill had to involve a numbing needle and head-vibrating drilling. But there was refreshing air conditioning, piped in music, and as I said, excellent lumbar support. This was as close to a spa feeling I would ever get. I felt free, untethered. My cellphone was stashed out of reach. There’s no better excuse to disappear from the world than being under the drill.

Except I forgot one detail. My Apple Watch was wrapped around my wrist. That gadget is connected to my cell, so it’s really a digital Gladys Kravitz satellite keeping tabs on my life. It relays everything to and from the mothership phone.

And of course, my watch lit up right after the needle, just when the dentist walked away to let the numbing kick in. I saw it was a text from a friend. Unaware I was having lower enamel replaced, she was hoping we could meet impromptu around that time. I didn’t want to leave her hanging. Since I was alone in Novocain limbo, I attempted to answer on the little watch touch screen.

Have you ever texted on a device that’s smaller than a teabag? While horizontal? Even in normal upright circumstances, this seems impossible. But I tried my best. Every attempt I made switched out to a weird autocorrect word and somehow, a gremlin sent almost everything before I could fix the weirdness.

I was able to convey I was at the dentist. My friend was confused, because the previous week I told her I had just been there and again…no cavities. I was desperate to tell her I was simply having enamel replaced by the gumline, but the entire text came out as one word: “gimlet.” (For folks under 60, that’s a vintage cocktail.) There are no gumlines in AutoCorrect Land. Only gimlets.

When I tried to correct the boozy/dental imagery, my texts became more nonsensical and seemed to send themselves. My friend was concerned and offered to pick me up.

Point is, I needed a stylus, a teeny tiny Keebler elf stylus, perhaps the size of a toothpick. These things exist, but I refuse to carry a writing implement for an under 2-inch screen that’s really a watch. I still fumble with that gadget. It drives me nuts. Dinging all the time, telling me to stand, overriding my phone because I hit the wrong thing. It even knows my heart rate.

At the end of the appointment, my dentist relayed a theory that more than over-enthusiastic brushing could wear out enamel at the gumline. “It’s multifactorial. Grinding your teeth can play a role.”

You know what causes teeth grinding? Stress. May as well ask my watch the recipe for a gimlet.